“Can you stay and answer the phone if anyone calls? I won’t be long. I’m hoping. If anything explodes, call the fire department.”

I said that I would, and not to worry. “And don’t scratch!”

Tony grabbed a satchel with a couple of wrenches and other tools and left me to sit at his desk.

I’m as nosy as anybody else, I admit, but there wasn’t much to look at in the heaps of books and papers. There were some creepy nature specimens: the full jawbone, with teeth, of some medium-to-large-size mammal. And some kind of stuffed hawk suspended above me, molting patches of feathers, a little sawdust escaping.

The phone on the desk rang. I picked it up. “Hello?” I had an awful moment when I realized I couldn’t remember the actual name of the conference. “Office.”

“Is this the, ah, writers’ conference?” Maybe the guy on the phone couldn’t remember it either.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“I’m calling for Doug McGregor and Compass Points. He’s going to be there Wednesday evening and I need to confirm some arrangements.”

“Jonathan?”

“Oh my god, Carla, what are you doing there? Oh wait, that’s right. You’re a camp counselor.”

“How are you, how’s what’s his name, Mr. Scrumptious?”

“Paul. He’s such a doll. I’ve decided to move in with him. You’ll have to come to dinner. What’s it like up there?”

“Intense. Weird. Good, I think. Why is Doug coming?”

“They bring in a bunch of agents and editors to give talks and solicit, I think that’s the right word, for new talent. Didn’t they tell you?”

They had, but they hadn’t told me who, or when. “What do you need, I’ll leave a message.”

Doug would arrive in time for Wednesday dinner. He would be bringing a number of copies of Compass Points, as well as his own books. He needed a private cabin. He wanted to know if he should bring his own sheets. (Yes.) And so on. I wrote it all down, told Jonathan it was great talking with him, and hung up.

I looked up at the stuffed hawk over my head. A current of air had set it in motion and I moved the chair to get out from under it. I hadn’t seen Doug since the night of his party, and the infamous episode with Pancho and Lefty. It didn’t bring back pleasant memories. I wondered if Viridian would continue to refuse to give Doug the Mathias poems, especially since Boone was so involved in brokering the deal, or if, as she had always done, she was looking for excuses not to give them to anyone.